The Lady’s Secret (22 page)

Nathan’s face was expressionless. “Drop your weapon and let him go.”

“
Him?
” the man sneered, but his voice shook. “I know what she is.” The knife bit, a little sharper, and her breath sobbed in her throat.

Jed raised his arm, slowly, a pistol in his hand. He took careful aim and waited. Nathan didn’t glance at the footman; his eyes were fixed behind Georgy, fixed on the man who now stiffened against her and pulled her closer.

“Nathan!” she whispered.

He glanced at her. “Stay calm.” He looked behind her again. “Let her go, or I’ll order Jed to shoot you.”

For an instant there was perfect silence.

“Have her, then!” A tremendous shove at her back sent her stumbling towards Nathan and Jed. She tried to catch her balance, but she slipped and hit the dirt, shoulder-first, her cheek connecting an instant later with the wet, cold ground.

“Georgy!” Nathan cried out, horrified. She heard footsteps and opened her eyes to see Jed’s legs passing her at a run, and at the same moment, Nathan sank to the ground beside her, lifting her in his arms and turning her.

“Oh Christ, Georgy, what did he do to you?” His fingers went to her throat and he yanked the cravat away, sliding his palms over the unbroken skin. His hands trembled.

“Nathan…” she murmured.

He raised his head and she saw with shock that his eyes were wet. Her heart clutched painfully, as though a great fist had closed round it. She opened her mouth but she couldn’t speak.

“God help me,” he whispered, “I thought he’d slit your throat when he pushed you, Georgy. Thank god.
Thank god
.”

Their eyes met and held for a moment. The sound of a gunshot broke them apart, Georgy startling in Nathan’s arms.

“What—?”

“My lord!” Jed’s voice. “He’s down!”

“I’m coming,” Nathan called. “Wait there.” He didn’t move immediately, though, except to lower his head until their foreheads almost touched. “Are you all right?”

“Yes,” she managed, her voice low and shaky. “I’m all right.”

He slid one hand up to cup her face. A stray lock of hair tumbled over his brow and his hand on her cheek was warm and alive. She was so bloody grateful.

“I’m all right,” she said again, touching the side of his face, just to feel him alive beneath her fingertips. “I’m all right.” And,
I love you
, she thought.
I love you.

Their eyes held for several long moments and she wondered if he knew her thoughts; if he heard the words somehow, even though all she’d said was
I’m all right
.

“My lord, I think—I think he’s dead!” Jed’s voice sounded strained and hesitant.

“I’m coming!”

They stood up together. When Georgy turned to walk towards Jed’s voice, Nathan restrained her, his hand on her arm.

“You don’t want to see this, Georgy. Go inside.”

She shook her head numbly, pulling her arm out of his hand and setting off. He didn’t try to stop her again and after a moment she heard him behind her, his longer strides catching up to her.

The pistol hanging limply from his fingers, Jed looked down at the heap on the ground that had been her attacker.

The dead man was sprawled on the ground. He’d been shot in the back and had fallen forward. His neck lay at an unnatural angle, his face in profile, one open eye staring angrily ahead. The deep-brimmed hat had flown off, revealing lank grey hair. He was plainly lifeless, a broken marionette in a dirty greatcoat. Horror rose in her. She knew this man.

“It’s Monk,” she whispered.

“What?” She sensed Nathan turning towards her but she couldn’t tear her eyes from the dead man. The man who had killed her mother—who had tried to kill her too.

“He’s dead, my lord,” Jed said again. The catch in his voice betrayed his distress, distracting Georgy. When she glanced his way she saw Nathan place a hand on the footman’s shoulder.

“I thought he’d killed Mr. Fellowes…I mean, Miss—” Jed looked between Nathan and Georgy with a bewildered expression.

“
Miss
Fellowes is under my protection,” Nathan said calmly. “You saved her, Jed. If you hadn’t come out of the house with that pistol, she would be dead now.” After a pause, he added. “You have my gratitude—and that of Miss Fellowes.”

Jed stared at Georgy for a moment then quickly looked away. They had spoken together over their ale in the evenings. He’d told her about the maid next door he was courting. He’d speculated lewdly about the ladies Nathan consorted with. She wondered if he was thinking of those conversations now.

“I’m indebted to you, Jed,” she told him quietly.

“I’m going to have to call the magistrate,” Nathan said. Georgy saw a panicky look in Jed’s eyes before she turned her gaze back to Nathan. He spoke calmly. “Georgy—you will leave before he arrives. Jed, when the magistrate comes we will tell him that we heard a shot from inside the house and found this man dead when we came to investigate. Is that clear? Tomorrow you will go to Camberley for a month or two.”

“Yes, my lord,” Jed said faintly.

“There’s a good chap,” Nathan said with a smile. He took the pistol from Jed’s unresisting fingers and placed it inside his coat.

“Let’s go inside,” he said.

Nathan hadn’t paid the Bloomsbury house much attention before, but this time when he entered it, he couldn’t help but notice how very colourful it was. A few years ago, he had given one of his mistresses free rein to decorate it and whilst the result was by no means tasteless, the bold colour palette she had used now struck him as almost aggressive. The scarlet drawing room had probably suited Yvette’s sloe-eyed Mediterranean beauty and forthright personality. Next to Georgy, however, the room seem vulgar and lacking.

When he came in, she was perched on a brocade-covered sofa and still in the same clothes she’d worn when they left Camberley this morning, though they were streaked with mud now from her tussle with the man she’d called Monk.

Nathan glanced about the room and saw that Goudge had brought a tea tray in. It lay neglected on a side table, the tea cup full and the dish of cakes untouched.

She stood up, her expression anxious.

“Is everything all right? What did the magistrate say?”

Nathan came fully into the room before he answered, closing the door behind him.

“Sir Percy accepted the story without a quibble. The body’s been taken away.” He paused. “You knew who the man was.”

She sank back into her seat. “Yes. Didn’t you recognise him?”

“Should I have?”

“He was one of the servants from Dunsmore Manor. On the morning we left, you saw him helping me with the orrery crate.”

He frowned. He couldn’t picture the servant who’d been with her. He’d been too absorbed in making her put the heavy crate down at the time to notice.

“His name was Monk,” Georgy went on. “The same name was used in one of the letters I took from Dunsmore Manor.”

“In what context was he mentioned in the letter?”

“He was being sent to silence my mother,” she whispered, face pale. “The letter was sent the day she died.”

He stared at her in silence for a long moment before he asked quietly, “How did she die?”

“She was stabbed in the street. She bled to death. We thought it was a cut-purse at the time.”

History had almost repeated itself tonight, then.

He touched his hand to her shoulder, his grip warm. “I’m so sorry. The villain’s dead now, at least.”

“And I’m glad he’s dead,” she said bitterly. “I’m
glad
.”

He let go of her shoulder and sank down next to her on the scarlet sofa, running a hand over his tired face.

“So,” he said at last. “Why were you leaving out the back door?”

“I’m sorry,” she muttered.

“Just tell me why.”

She gazed into the fire. “I was going home.”

He waited, frustration building in him, but she offered nothing else. He’d been shaken by her taking off without a word. He’d stumbled into her chamber and found it empty, and he’d known immediately that she’d gone. Known it with a cold certainty. “You couldn’t have waited even a few minutes to tell me you were leaving?” he asked.

She flushed, her eyes still averted. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“And not even a note, after what we’d shared? What was I supposed to think, Georgy? You knew I was worried about you.”

She stared miserably at the floor.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered again. “Really, I am. I just—” She made a helpless gesture.

“What? You just what?”

“I thought you’d try to talk me out of it. And then I’d end up staying because, well, I didn’t
want
to go. But Harry’s on his way home from Yorkshire…”

She trailed off, mingled misery and embarrassment on her face. And pathetically, he was gratified both by her discomfiture and her blurted admission.

“If you don’t want to go, then don’t,” he said, his voice low and driven. He got out of his chair and went to her, kneeling before her so she couldn’t avoid his gaze any longer. “Don’t go. Stay. Stay here, with me. I want you to.”

He barely knew what he was saying. The words were tumbling out of his mouth in a perfect stream of truth. He wasn’t even using the excuse of protecting her anymore.
Don’t go
. Distantly, he was amazed. Here he was, on his knees, begging her not to leave. And he didn’t even care. His armour had been pierced tonight, when he’d seen her fall to the ground in the mews, and now it seemed pointless to don it again.

He stared at her, willing her to look at him. Finally she did.

“But I do not wish to—to cause trouble for you. And anyway, my brother is on his way back to London and he is going to need me. He has been hurt.”

“What happened to him?”

“He was attacked—stabbed. A friend of ours is fetching him home. He will be back in London soon I think.”

“When?” he demanded.

“I-I’m not sure, precisely.”

He felt a burst of incredulous anger. “My god, Georgy! You went walking off into the night without even knowing if your brother’s back in London? Knowing that he’d been stabbed and knowing about the carriage accident being no accident? Are you quite mad?” Had she been so eager to get away from him that she would happily wander off into the jaws of danger?

She gave a strange little laugh.

“Mad? I don’t know—probably I am. I wasn’t thinking very clearly, in truth.” She put a hand to her bruised head and stroked absently. “I’ve been feeling rather odd since the accident.”

He really looked at her then and his anger drained away. She was dirty, bruised and exhausted. Probably hungry too; she hadn’t eaten much today.

“You’re not fit to do anything at the moment, Georgy,” he said. “You need something to eat and a bath and a good long sleep.”

She blinked. “Do I?”

“Of course you do. Here.” He reached across to the tea tray and lifted the dish of cakes. “Eat one of these while I ring for a bath and have Goudge arrange some supper for us. Is there someone who will know if your brother is back yet?”

“Yes. Lily.”

“All right, scribble a note to Lily. I’ll have it delivered to her straight away and get a message back to you tonight if possible. Now isn’t that a better idea than you setting off on your own?”

She gave a weak laugh. “I suppose so. I’m just so used to managing on my own.”

He went to the bureau and pulled out paper, ink and sealing wax, everything she’d need to write a few lines. When he’d laid it all out for her, she came and sat down and within a few minutes, the note was ready.

He took it to Goudge to arrange for its delivery. By the time he returned he was pleased to note that Georgy had eaten no less than three of the dainty cakes.

“Come upstairs,” he urged her. “Your bath is being drawn. You’ll feel better once you’re clean and warm.”

He pushed and prodded her upstairs and into his chamber. She sank down onto the bed, looking utterly done in. He’d planned to leave her to undress herself, but she plainly wasn’t up to it. He kneeled to remove her boots and stockings. She let him act the valet to her, sitting quietly as he unbuttoned her waistcoat and drew it away from her body and then gently unwound her cravat. He removed her shirt and breeches, and finally her bindings and drawers.

She protested briefly when he lifted her in his arms, but she allowed him to carry her to the bathtub with no other interruptions, letting out a sigh of appreciation when she slid into the hot water.

He stared down at her. She looked dirty and, with her bruises, disreputable, but she was lovely too. He wanted her badly. But now was very far from the right time. In truth, there may never be another right time. And so he left her.

When he returned with a supper tray of simple hearty food, she was wearing one of his shirts and brushing her damp hair. She looked over her shoulder at him and smiled. She must have pilfered the shirt from his armoire. It hung down past her knees but the linen was so fine that in the candlelight he could see the outline of her body clearly through the fabric. His cock hardened, even as he ached at the sight of her pale, bruised face. Somehow the bruises looked worse now she was clean.

“I come bearing gifts.” he said lightly, as he put the tray down.

“Food,” she observed.

“And word from your friend.”

“Already!” She dropped the comb with a clatter and stepped towards him. He handed her the note and she tore it open, her eyes scanning the lines inside.

“Well?”

“Harry’s still not back,” she said, her gaze worried. “They’re going slow because of his injuries.” She handed him the note and he read it.

“She says to stay where you are, if you can,” he pointed out. “If you’re safe.”

“Yes.”

“So you’ll stay?”

She said nothing for several long, heart-stopping moments.

“If that’s all right.” She didn’t look at him as she spoke. She stared at her bare toes.

He felt an immediate easing of tension.

He stepped forward and placed his hand on her shoulder. “You can stay as long as you wish, Georgy. I will protect you and keep you safe as best I can.” He had some ideas about that too. He would be seeing Dunsmore as soon as the man came back to town.

“Will you?” She glanced up at him; her eyes were troubled.

“Of course. You will have to trust me, though. Do you trust me?”

It occurred to him suddenly, and quite inappropriately, that the last time he’d asked her that question, he’d been lying between her spread thighs. He thought he saw a shadow of recognition in her eyes too, a second later. Her cheeks turned pink and her lips parted, giving a glimpse of pearly teeth. He found himself mesmerised by her soft mouth and his cock ached again.
Lord
.

She noticed. She glanced at his crotch and her eyes widened. For a moment she was quiet, but when she did speak, she surprised him.

“Yes, I trust you,” she said softly. She stepped closer to him and placed her hand on his chest. Beneath her fingertips, he quickened, and he felt himself flush. It was perfectly ridiculous, the way this inexperienced woman could do that to him.

But he did not want her to feel beholden to him. And so he gritted his teeth and stepped backwards. Her hand dropped away and chagrin flashed across her face.

“I’m not offering you a place to stay to get something from you, Georgy. You needn’t worry about me taking liberties. You will be treated as a guest here and I will ask nothing in return.”

She bit her lip.
God, that mouth.

“Not even if I want you to?”

He grew ever so slightly harder. “I didn’t think you would want me to,” he said carefully. “After what you said about not wanting an encore.”

“That was a—lie.”

She blushed. A delicious, rosy-pink Georgy blush.

“A lie?” He sank down onto the bed beside her. She turned towards him, leaning forward, the open neck of the purloined shirt gaping to give him a glimpse of her perfect breasts.

She was only an inch away now, her eyes fastened to his, her breath against his lips. He could smell her unmistakable scent, clean and feminine. He felt overwhelmed by her, as if they were right in the middle of a moment that had always been coming, a moment that had been ahead of him his whole life. She had been making her way towards him for years, borne along on the tides of fate. And if he wasn’t ready to think about the full implications of that quite yet, well, he knew a reckoning was coming. Sooner or later.

In the meantime, he simply yearned for her. With a sharp physical ache.

He waited in silence for another few moments.

And then—at last—she kissed him.